Two worl... What?

It is the last full day so Nick decides to treat himself and hire one of the Hotel's ebikes for a modest 15€. Igor is summoned to demo the bike which he duly does. Nick decides to head back up to the fateful Hochfelln and from thence via forestry to Maria Eck (named after the Yorkshire version of West Side Story). He starts, one kilometre up the hill he stops, the bike will go no further, he dismounts ruefully, an admission of failing vitality, to push, it won't do that either. He inspects and finds the back brake stuck to the back wheel, it is nonadjustable, fortunately his, and the bike's, considerable weight overcome the friction so that five minutes later, the receptionist heads off to find Igor. Over the next ten minutes Nick learns a few, somewhat terse Hungarian phrases, without knowing what they mean, he instinctively grasps the sort of situation where one might use them.

Brakes freed, he sets off up the wrong hill, has a chat with a fellow cyclist who puts him on the right hill, and warns of fallen trees on his chosen path. Two thirds of the way up the right hill, and he comes to a halt, not a grinding halt, that was the previous time, just a halt, the bike seems to refuse to respond to the gears. Giving up he turns once more, turns, and determines to trace his steps back to Rothmoosalm, it is less of a hill, perhaps that's the problem. After the turn (and christening the bike Hugh) there is a new rattle, at the first up, the chain jumps off the rear sprocket, some oily fingers and twenty metres later, it does it again - "Igor!".

While Igor soundly abuses Hugh, the receptionist drops the hire charge. Hugh's rear wheel is mounted in a slot to adjust the tension on the chain, it has moved, releasing the chain, Igor moves it back. At this point Nick decides not to question Igor on his opinion of Viktor Orban, but mentally posits that had Bosch ebikes been a feature in 1940, that Hungary may have shifted in a different direction.

He departs again, and is stymied at the first hill, the gears once again not responding, after a faff, and by serendipity, he discovers that the gears will only shift if you stop pedalling, so finally turns Hugh and sets off for Rothelmoos (Maria Eck has lost its shimmer, there's always next time).
"Lets see - Turbo 35km, Sport 40km, Tour 50km, Eco 71km - should be ok."
Instead of going the same way to Rothelmoos, he does the extension up the hill to Eschelmoos, it is a long steep hill, necessitating lots of Sport and indeed Turbo, at the top-
"Lets see - Turbo 20km, Sport 22km, Tour 35km, Eco 40km - yikes!"
The way down the other side of the valley is in Eco mode, pushing some charge back in the battery, at Rothelmoos Nick stops for a beer and a plate of ham and bread - he is also in Eco mode.

Back down the Wappachtal and then around lake for variety, on the way back he stops at the Lumberjack Museum, and is mildly disappointed to find that it's a collection of buildings to walk round, by this time he was hoping for some sort of audio-visual with seats and a saline drip. He finally returns the bike to the hotel_
"Lets see - Turbo 1km, Sport 1km, Tour 1km, Eco 4km - Blimey!"

After his shower he searches for his specs - missing! Turns the pack upside -down, rummages inside, searches under the bed clothes, under the bed, the desk, in the wardrobe, in the pack again, not helped by the fact that he only has his sunglasses in the nocturnal gloom. Analysis: In the museum hoping to be inside he changed from sunglasses to the truant correctives, and then reversed the process on leaving. Two supermarkets where things (never you mind - they're already gone) were put in the pack, then the hotel.
"Could you ring the Lumberjack Museum and ask if ..."
They're shut, he takes Ziggy for a spin there, the rush of adrenalin obscuring the complaints from his overheated joints - nothing. He finds young Englisch sprechen in the supermarkets - nichts. The evening is spent explaining.

Day does its best to dawn, some of the night has been spent Braille packing, some sleeping, before facing breakfast whilst looking like a Hollywood roue from the 60's, he has one last go at the pack; empty. Slides hands down each side of the back panel, inside the pack and outside, and is both miffed and thrilled as the case pops onto the floor, freed from being caught under the flap at the top of the pack, won't bloody fall out when you turn the thing upside down and shake it, oh no, not for you the joys of gravity, you bloody selfish bast~'&@*.
 "Yeah thought so." - he thinks, "Roue to twit in five seconds."

As punishment, and to occupy two and a half hours he does a stroll from the "10 Best Hikes" leaflet, there is a lot of up, some along and a lot of down, apart from the along, it all hurts, actually the along hurts too but in a different way. Still the flowers, the trees, the Alpine Squirrels (black Red Squirrels) the two thirds of a crushed slow worm and the back half of a legged lizard - "Ahh Nature!".

At the airport the flight is delayed by an hour, he has been here before - a week ago.